


Thimble

by 16pennies



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode: s01e07 Eye of the Needle, F/F, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-03 23:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10260992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/16pennies/pseuds/16pennies
Summary: A short one-shot exploring B'Elanna and Janeway's feelings after 'Eye of the Needle.'





	

**Author's Note:**

> Found this buried in my folder of fics; originally written in 2015. Technically it isn't finished, but I think it's sweet how it is now and I'd like to share it. Can't promise I won't finish it in the future!
> 
> Not very explicit Janeway/B'Elanna but they were my original goal.

Perhaps Neelix’s cooking was exceptional tonight; perhaps it was worse than the Starfleet-issue rations. B’Elanna couldn’t tell. Her thoughts were too busy consuming the infinite what-ifs stemming from the day’s events.

            There were three distinct possibilities stubbornly presenting themselves:

  1. Telek had sent their communication to Starfleet before his death
  2. He had made arrangements, such as a will, which would alert Starfleet in the event of his death
  3. Their messages to their loved ones had been forever lost with the messenger



Ever the analytical scientist, numeric probabilities added themselves to the turbulent thoughts until B’Elanna’s mind had created an absolute mess. Staring blindly at the slop on her tray, she vaguely wondered why she _cared_ so damn much. It was hardly as though she had a family waiting for her in the Alpha Quadrant like most of the other crew members.

So then why was she so put off by all this?

It must be the fact that they’d failed. She tended to get a little too invested in her projects, and being involved in such an important task as this and failing was a severe blow. Of course, she wasn’t responsible for the mission’s lack of success, but she couldn’t but feel rather dejected by it all.

With a sigh, she picked up her spoon and lazily probed the stew Neelix had served her. It was an off-green colour and B’Elanna scrunched her nose; she’d prefer the vilest Klingon dish to this stuff.

“May I join you?”

B’Elanna looked up from her dinner and found herself staring at Captain Janeway, an expectant yet kind expression on her face. B’Elanna stuttered a moment before answering, “Yes, captain, of course.”

With a smile, the captain sat across from her Chief Engineer. A silent moment passed and B’Elanna absently swirled her spoon through the mush before her.

“Not hungry, Lieutenant?”

B’Elanna smirked at Janeway’s teasing question. “I’m afraid not.” With a resigned sigh, she tossed her spoon into the slop and leaned back in her chair. “What about you, captain?” B’Elanna nodded her head to the coffee held in the captain’s hands. “No appetite?”

Janeway gave a slight shrug and took a sip of coffee. Her sparkling eyes became dimmer as she sombrely answered, “I’m finding it difficult to focus on much of anything today.”

B’Elanna nodded and her gaze drifted to the window where countless star systems were streaking past. “Me too,” she confessed softly.

“I can’t help but wonder,” Janeway mused, “if we did the right thing.”

B’Elanna turned back to her captain and found the woman staring into space, her eyes wistful. “What do you mean?”

“Was it wrong to put that responsibility on his shoulders? For all we know, he could have died in agony with the knowledge that he was taking our only way home with him to his grave.”

“For all we know, he’d already transmitted the message by the time he died.” B’Elanna quipped.

Captain Janeway shook her head and looked down to her coffee. B’Elanna simply watched. “I can’t allow myself to linger on optimistic possibilities.”

“Then you shouldn’t linger on the pessimistic ones, either.”

Janeway looked up and met B’Elanna’s eyes. She found them shining with the aggressive strength she expected, but also an undercurrent of compassion. Resting her chin on her hand, Janeway curiously probed, “And what do you think of all this, Lieutenant?”

B’Elanna suddenly felt rather self-conscious and leaned back in her chair so she could look back to the stars. “How does anyone feel when their brilliant plan fails?”

Janeway smirked and followed B’Elanna’s gaze to the window. “Well, as you said: maybe one of his descendants will find the chip in his sock drawer when they give away his belongings.”

Laughing, B’Elanna responded, “So, is that what it’s come down to? All our hopes and dreams rest in a Romulan sock drawer.”

The captain laughed too. “Well, there are worse things.” She took a sip of her coffee and her mirth faded a little. “I get the feeling that this will become a common occurrence throughout our journey.”

Frowning, B’Elanna asked, “Encountering enemy species from alternate regions of space-time?”

Janeway sighed and gave a half-smile. “No—getting so close to home, and then having it torn from our hands as soon as we allow ourselves to get our hopes up.”

B’Elanna turned and saw Janeway gazing at the stars as they smeared across the window. The captain seemed a tranquil sort of sad. In her short acquaintance with the captain, she’d been surprised by how many emotions Janeway’s face was capable of exhibiting at one moment. It seemed impossible that a single face could express so many things at once. B’Elanna had never been in an environment where that sort of openness wouldn’t be a death sentence. She had no idea how the captain managed to get away with it and still be so effective at her job.

Or maybe it was part of what made her so good at it.

Janeway turned and B’Elanna instinctively ducked her head back to the table, embarrassed that she’d been caught staring. Trying to appear nonchalant, B’Elanna turned back to the window and rested her chin on her palm.

“You must miss it,” she mused vaguely.

The captain frowned and hummed in question.

“Earth,” B’Elanna specified. “You must miss it. Home.”

“Yes,” whispered the captain. “Yes, I do miss it very much. Some days I think it will get easier, others the pain feels never-ending.” Janeway lost herself in thought for a few breaths and B’Elanna watched out of the corner of her eye, wondering what nostalgic memories the captain was revisiting.

“What about you, Lieutenant?”

            Janeway didn’t move as she spoke and B’Elanna’s eyes flew back to the window, once again embarrassed. This conversation felt strangely disarming, and the use of her title reminded B’Elanna that she had no right to wonder at her superior’s personal thoughts.

            “There isn’t much left for me in the Alpha Quadrant,” B’Elanna answered softly, taken aback by her own earnestness. “It doesn’t make much difference to me.”

            “No?” B’Elanna saw the captain turn to face her in her peripheral vision, but she stoically kept her gaze fixed on the nothingness outside the starship. “Then why are you so disappointed by our failure and so desperately clinging to the sliver of a possibility that we might have succeeded?”

            Janeway’s voice was not the sharp tone of command, but rather the nuanced, intimate song of emotion. B’Elanna swallowed, once again feeling exposed and wondering how the captain managed to be so open yet so in control. It contradicted everything B’Elanna had experienced in her time as a Klingon, human, Starfleet officer and Maquis rebel. Kathryn Janeway did not conform to anything B’Elanna was familiar with.

            “I told you,” she answered somewhat defensively, “I don’t like failure.”

            Janeway was dying to retort back, to ask her if she considered being stranded in the Delta Quadrant to be a failure, to find out what her engineer missed 70 thousand lightyears away, to understand how this young woman thought and lived. But she knew that B’Elanna wouldn’t tolerate that sort of interrogation and so the captain restrained herself and took another sip of coffee.

            A silent moment or two passed as each woman sat with her thoughts, until B’Elanna suddenly gave a bitter laugh.

            The captain raised her eyebrows curiously. “Something funny, Lieutenant?”

            “I was just thinking,” B’Elanna shook her head as though trying to shake the smile from her lips. “When I was a child, my mother removed me from Starfleet education and sent me to a Klingon monastery. It felt a bit like being thrown into a different quadrant of the galaxy. I lost all contact with my friends… There was this one girl. I used to spend afternoons at her house. Her cat would keep us company while we did our homework.” B’Elanna’s expression became wistful and as she gazed ahead, she clearly wasn’t seeing the Mess Hall. “It’s funny,” she mused as Janeway listened attentively. “Even when I was stuck in that place, totally severed from everything I’d ever loved, I think it was that damn cat that I missed most.” B’Elanna sadly chuckled at her own juvenile foolishness and shook her head before returning to the present day. She glanced at the captain and subtly blushed when she saw how intensely the other woman was focused on her words. Self-consciously, B’Elanna quickly ate a mouthful of the mush. Other than some off-putting sourness, it was rather bland.

            The captain smiled, appreciating B’Elanna’s emotional honesty. Childhood anecdotes weren’t usually a topic of great significance, but coming from her chief engineer, it felt like a significant symbol of trust and comradery. “Well, B’Elanna,” The half-Klingon raised her eyebrows and met Janeway’s eyes at the sound of her first name. “When we get back to the Alpha Quadrant, I give you my word I’ll see to it you get a cat.”

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. I can't believe I wrote another gay cat fic
> 
> I also take prompts/requests. You can find a list of fandoms on my profile and tumblr: 16-pennies.tumblr.com


End file.
